


Two Birds on a Wire

by BuildBridges



Category: James McAvoy - Fandom, Split (2016), Split - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Kidnapping, Mental Instability, Mental Support, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9560855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuildBridges/pseuds/BuildBridges
Summary: Dennis has a job. He's planned it for days. He's more than capable of doing it. He has the perfect opportunity right now. But damn...He's completely distracted. On a complete whim, Dennis gets in the neighboring car of the original targets. He's met with a very deserving "the fuck are you?" before he has his mask and can at the ready.Jesus fucking Christ, what is he doing?





	1. Whim

**Author's Note:**

> Heeyy so this is my first, anything really, on here so I'm just hoping for something above complete shit. I'm sorry in advance. :P
> 
> Right, so, warnings. If you have seen Split, then you will know the themes of this story. If not, it includes a kidnapping/drugging of the female protagonist, Jay, in the beginning. Dennis, the main male in this, is a bit of a pervert so there will be mentions and events involving that. Characters will speak of abuse experienced in their pasts. Mental health plays a huge role in the plot. Kevin has Dissociative Identity Disorder and developed 24 personalities within his one body. PLEASE NOTE THAT CRIMINAL ACTS IN THIS STORY ARE NOT REPRESENTATIVE OF THOSE WHO SUFFER WITH DID. Jay talks of her experiences with Depression, Anxiety, and self-harm. So, please, if you are a bit vulnerable or sensitive to mentions of these topics, please stay safe and away from this work. And besides, I'm sure, with my ineptitude, you won't be missing out on too much!
> 
> The main reason I even felt inspired to write this was, well for one, James McAvoy is absolutely brilliant. Mainly, I felt that the representation of DID sidetracked a whole lot, especially in the end. As I watched the scenes with Doctor Fletcher, I had hopes that they would show Kevin healing and Dennis getting rid of old, bad habits. But I began to lose that faith of a positive, public take on DID as the movie progressed. The whole "Beast" thing seemed a bit silly to me and I believe he will be excluded from this story. I want to take a more realistic take to DID and hopefully take it out of a bit of the negative light being shone on the disorder. Although to be fair to Shyamalan, I believe there were only 3 personalities that were shone to have any negative intentions. I 100% understand that people with DID are no more or even less dangerous than any person walking through my hometown and I wish to show that a bit throughout the story and Dennis' transformation.
> 
> I am 10000% open to suggestions and requests for what you think would be a nice addition to the story. I'm very open to anything, but keep in mind that it may take a while for the idea to appear in the story depending on how best I can incorporate it into the pre-existing plot.
> 
> Thank you so much and (hopefully) enjoy!!

I run a hand over my prickly scalp; back and forth, back and forth. I pace quickly, frustrated with my sudden indecision. This is so _stupid_ , why am I even considering it?! The plan has been set for days and there's no going back. I just need to remind myself that these two are a **necessity** and there is no choice in the matter. They will serve a greater purpose. This is best for _all_ of us...I heave a sigh. None of that's helping to keep my mind focused. The job is unpleasant in itself, but, unfortunately, I can't say it's too unfamiliar.

But what's really got me so... _panicked,_ I guess...is simply a woman sitting in her car. She isn't even particularly _doing_ anything, and that's why I'm so confused at my mesmerization - and I don't mean it like with the other young women... She's just staring off into the distance with unmoving eyes as if she can actually see something other than the dull parking lot. The stare gives off this sort of feeling that she's having an actual verbal conversation, but her lips don't even twitch. She even seems doe-like, with soft features but a solid, frozen glare at the fast approaching, dangerous headlights...I don't know, there's some sort of "attraction" you might call it. Honestly, I just have not been able read even my own emotions lately and don't know what's going on-

I blink hard. _Stop it, Dennis._ I can't be thinking like this right now. I need to get this done. Besides, Miss Patricia is counting on me to be good. With eyes still shut, I count to three. I clap my hands together and open my eyes, ready to follow through with the plan. Besides, if I don't hurry, my window of opportunity will be shut. The man, presumably one of the girls' father, is loading giftbags into his car trunk and will be done shortly. I approach, only ten feet away; seven feet, four, one. I walk clear past the car of the girls and enter the doe's car.

The driver's seat had been empty, waiting even. Silent shock fills the entire area of the confined truck on both, mine and hers, ends. I can't believe I did this. Usually, I'm so much more in control, but now I've totally lost it. What came over me? I was prepared to do it: He was right there in front of me! A breath I hadn't noticed I was keeping escapes my lips as I shake my head at my absolute stupidity. 

"...the hell are you..?" The quiet whisper sounds deafening. In reality though, I wouldn't have heard it at all if it weren't for the stark silence just previous. Either way, I'm reminded of the situation at hand and quickly grab the surgical mask and spray can. 

Just before I press down on the nozzle, I get a good look at the woman's, or possibly still just a girl's, face. Her dark, downy hair reaches just below her chin and frames her face. Some strands fall in front of seemingly calm, mellow features. It's her bright, bright eyes covered in a tearful sheen that give away the act. And at the very moment that my gaze meets her eyes, a wave of intense _fear_ passes through my whole body. I feel the incident from her perspective rather than my own, selfish one. At that very moment, I realize that _I_ am the dangerous headlights.

I do the only thing I could possibly even think at the time and I press down. Hard. I watch as she initially tries to avoid the gas before slumping over and shutting those god-forsaken eyes. I breathe deeply, trying to force the adrenaline and panic out of me.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

_____________

I smell my surroundings before I get the chance to open my eyes. I smell...mmm, fresh paint. Oh, that reminds me, I still need to finish that acrylic for Professor Schumann. I can already feel sunlight streaming onto my face and curve my lips contentedly. This was the best sleep I've had in a good, long while so I savor the moment just a tad longer before I begin to get the feeling that something is wrong. I slowly lift my eyelids.

I bolt upright and push hair out of my vision. The first thing I notice is that the "sunlight" is actually a lamp attached to a stone wall that I've never seen before in my life. Speaking of which, I've never seen _anything_ in this room before. I realize that I'm sitting on a cot and even see my drool on the stranger pillow. _God, how long have I been here?_ The panic starts setting in. 

I try to think back to what happened last night (or maybe an hour ago? 8 days? Who knows?) and remember the man just walking straight into the car. The panic sets in hardcore. 

I stared at him for seemingly hours, watching his fast, supposedly _also_ scared breaths. "...the hell are you..?" slipped out of my mouth. I meant to think it to myself more than anything and it startled me to hear it out loud. It apparently surprised him too, because he moved into action and reached to grab something from his pocket. The panic has set in, like, **really hardcore.**

The man took a look at me that felt like it lasted for another hour before pressing down on the nozzle. My fingers glided over the handle on my door but were too frantic to get a grip before the gas entered my nose and took over all my senses. **Did I mention how panicked I feel right now?**

I fumble over my waist, looking for the bulge of my phone in my coat pocket and immediately see my coat off and on the end corner of the cot. I grab for it and shake it about. To no surprise, my phone is missing. Obviously he would've taken it. I put the plush layer back on my top for an extra bit of protection from whatever. Standing on tip toes, I approach the wooden door on the far wall. I slowly try and twist the knob and a second not-surprise tells me its locked. A breath leaves me, almost contorting into a whimper. I'm totally and utterly fucked.

Being pretty enough for someone to actually _want_ to abduct me for anything always seemed incredibly irrational. Don't get me wrong, I've always had a huge fear of sexual assault or being kidnapped, but I always assumed I'd be dead before I could wake up, let alone in some private cellar. 

And this "private cellar" apparently has a pretty nice bathroom. I creep in and see a yellow flower on the sink. Underneath said sink is a caddy filled with sanitary products such as toothpaste, hair care, tampons and...a _douche?_ Even though it's in an unopened box, I drop the item quickly. That's just fucking weird. Speaking of fucking weird, the shower has only a clear curtain. I imagine the man standing in the bathroom doorway, watching his captives shower. A wave of cringe passes over me. Most importantly in here, I find a mirror. I step to the side to avoid staring at my reflection. If I can get this off the wall, I can definitely shatter it and take a shard as a weapon. But I don't want to do that yet: I want to get as much information as possible before I go and make a loud, crashing alarm that I'm awake. I begin walking over to the second cot in the room to see if there's anything of use on it. Just as my hand caresses the yellow blanket, I hear the jingle of keys as they enter the wooden door. 

I freeze and stare as the man from the car enters. He pauses, hand still on the door knob, as he sees me awake and standing. Gaze unmoving, he slowly shuts the door behind him. He seems to recover from the slight shock of me not laying down unconscious and his brow furrows back to what I remember before I was brought here. After...hm, probably a week of awkward eye contact between us, he speaks.

"Hi."


	2. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow! I was so not expecting the responses that the last chapter got and, boy, am I relieved! Honestly, I expected, at most, 2 hits by the end of the month, but 240 in the last (nearly) week! Thank you all so much for reading and I am so grateful for all the lovely comments. 
> 
> With love~

"Hi."

His voice was much huskier than I would have imagined. His eyes still hold mine, blinking sparsely. Glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, covering two vivid blue eyes. He wears a black button-up shirt with a single white button at his neck, which is thick and muscular, connecting to an equally strong chest and arms. I quickly realize that any sort of escape based on a physical battle would end dreadfully for me. His stance appears sturdy and has barely moved since the moment he stepped through the door. I also notice that not a speck of dust lies anywhere on his person. I bet that even his shoes are sanitary enough to do surgery with.

"Hey."

I finally remembered to respond to his greeting and my cheeks flush while thinking about how stupid I must have looked while staring at him. The sound of my voice seems to give him permission to move since he drops his eyes a bit and walks gingerly towards the second, unused cot in the room. Subconsciously, I twirl the metal band around my finger. I take a small step backwards, but something stops me from having that full-blown terror and running to lock myself in the bathroom. That doesn't mean I'm any less cautious in monitoring each of his movements and checking for hostility.

His eyes follow his hand as it brushes along the yellow cloth on the cot. The other hand rests in his pants pocket. Something is obviously on his mind and it makes the alarms in my head sway warily. The spinning of my ring picks up a little more speed.

"Uh...I was gonna take the extra bed out of here...before you woke up...but you could probably keep it here... use it for _something._ " He sounds distracted. What is he here to actually say? Why does he _want_ me here anyway? He looks up at me. I momentarily scare myself, thinking that I might have said that aloud. His eyes falter at something on my coat. The expression on his face completely changes and his body goes rather rigid.

"You-your coat. There's a-" He rubs his hand over his forehead. "There's a stain on your coat. Can you...Just take it off."

His tone of voice throws me off guard at first. He sounds _physically_ pained. Then I digest his actual words and look down to where he had been staring. There's barely a drop of...cranberry juice? First, I think that maybe he has severe OCD which I have no issue cooperating with. But then I think that maybe this is a trick, and before I know it, I'll be left naked. I remind myself I have 3 layers below this one before I'd be in just a cami and decide it's safe enough to hand over the coat. I gently hover it a couple feet in front of him. He takes it and holds it to the side of him as if it's a dead animal. I'll pretend I'm not a little offended, but I mean, Jesus Christ, I don't have rabies.

It looks like he's going to leave as he walks towards that oh-so coveted door. The incessant spinning of my ring finally slows a bit. But then he stops. Only a couple steps away from turning that knob. He turns around and avoids eye contact with me until after he finishes his question. 

"Do you know how to dance?"

A chill runs over my neck at the question and my hairs stand on end.

I shake my head no, hoping that'll be sufficient enough. 

To my absolute delight, he nods acceptingly and drops his gaze once more, looking a bit embarrassed even. And with that, he really _does_ leave the room.

The unlocked room. 

I smack my palm against my face hard. I'm **such an idiot.**

_____________

I cringe at myself as I pull the key out of the door. That didn't go as planned. But since when has _anything_ involving this girl done that? Just bringing her into this room was a struggle with all of her unconscious moving. She nearly opened the car door and walked out as I parked. The path was clear so I decided to just carry her in my arms through the hallways. Besides, I couldn't trust her to not squirm out the window somehow. I remember her kicking her legs and her heel meeting my thigh multiple times. But I also remember her grabbing onto my jacket and shoulder while her head lolled onto my chest. My breath hitched before I gained back some composure. Luckily, she settled more on the bed, allowing me to remove her coat and reveal a brown knitted-sweater . She was obviously the kind of person to wear a lot of layers; I could already see at least two more shirts under this sweater.

I was afraid at first that maybe I had sprayed too much of...that, back in the car because of how she was acting. But just a moment ago I saw her standing well and awake despite only half an hour passing. I had planned to just grab the second bed, coat off the corner, and get out before she came to. Regardless of the circumstances, I shouldn't have brought her here. I need to talk to Patricia.

I hand the spotlight over to her at the table we constructed in our head to communicate. I wait for her to change into her own clothes before starting the conversation.

"So what has you stalling to tell me how it went?" Patricia says aloud in her high-strung English accent.

She knows me too well. Without a doubt, I have grown closest with Patricia. The others and we, including the boy, Hedwig, have drifted apart since our beliefs began clashing and growing. Really though, Patricia feels like a sister I wish we had sooner.

I'm not sure how to explain myself to her; I can't explain it to _myself_ even. 

"I...switched up the plan..." I start off vaguely. I should have known that she wouldn't accept that as an answer. She scowls. 

"How so?"

There's no way out of it. I'd have to explain it to her eventually anyway.

"I only got one girl... and she wasn't one of them."

Patricia, even though I don't clearly see her, I know is wearing an angry, surprised face. Probably similar to the one she uses when scolding Hedwig. 

"Will she still work?" She asks through taut lips.

"Oh yeah- I'm sure she will. There's so many it's hard to stay away from them all."

She nods her head solemnly and waits a moment. "He requested two."

Now it's my turn to nod. "I'll.. I'll take care of it. Trust me." I say this trying to reassure myself more so than Patricia.

The room remains silent for a few seconds, and I can tell Patrica does _not_ trust me.

"If this is another one of your stunts like with the other ladies I will **not** -"

"No, Trish, look-"

"I told you to stop calling me that." Her tone of voice tells me this conversation is over. "I'm going in there." I shake my head and sigh, irritated with the lack of regard. But there's no point trying to stop her as I hear her grab the keys that I had just put away.

_____________

As soon as he walked out, I press my ear against the door, trying to listen to any sort of hints about the area outside this room. For a while, I hear nothing but silence. Suddenly, I hear... high heels? Following soon after is another voice. It's much higher and sounds accented. I hear them having a conversation with _someone;_ the other participant, I couldn't hear. I can't tell if it's safe to call out or not. They may be working with the man from before, but they could also be my way to safety. Indecision and anxieties pile onto the large pile already forming as I try to figure out what to do.

I start to hear the clicking of the high-heeled shoes and think that I won't get to make a decision after all, but now it sounds like the footsteps, accompanied by a key jingling, are getting closer . They are coming into the room. I quickly back up to avoid contact with the swinging door.

The man from just moments ago stands in the doorway...but not. Everything about this person seems unfamiliar. _She_ is dressed femininely and her expression is much more transparent. I see something flash in her eyes that makes her chest tighten for just a moment before her face softens. Her stance shifts a bit and she seems to be contemplating what to say.

My mind starts racing with all the ideas and diagnoses for why the "man" from earlier has changed so drastically. I cycle through the different personality disorders; Schizotypical, Borderline, Bipolar, Histrionic, DID... The possibilities keep turning in my head and I force myself to focus on the woman in front of me. 

"This was a mistake." She explains calmer than the situation probably calls for. She searches my face for answers that I don't know I have. 

"He hasn't been himself lately. He's not well." The more she talks the more affirmation I get that the two people I've talked to have totally different identities. "Let me talk to him." Her face is sympathetic now, bordering on regretful. She looks at me a few moments longer and turns to head back out.

"Excuse me," What am I doing?! "What's your name?" I don't know _what_ made me talk out loud, but I'm not quite sorry for asking. Yet.

She pauses and looks at the door while deciding if it's safe to say. I don't think she wants to look at me anymore because she stays in that spot as she answers as well.

"Patricia." She says it as if she hasn't said it in decades. It rolls off her lips foreignly and new. She likes it based on the small chortle on her face as she looks down. 

"Thank you, ma'am," I say in reference to the visit in general, but also to let her know I'm done keeping her away from whatever it was she was about to go do.

She looks up and faces me now, surprised. A sudden revelation is plastered on her face, but what it is, I have no idea.

"I'm sorry."

And with that she walked right back out the door. 

I rush to the knob, hoping to catch it before she has the chance to lock it, but I'm just half a second short. Unceremoniously, I support myself against the door with hopelessness. I don't exactly stop myself this time when I let out a quiet whine. 

Through my despair, I catch Patrica say something to the air. I hear her weariness from the other side of the door.

"Dennis, take back the spotlight."

_____________

It feels like days have passed before I fall asleep. After everything that has happened in the last...however long it's been,I couldn't hold back the waves of tears and anxieties racking my body. I could have been lying against that door with my knees pulled tight against my chest for 8 hours before I finally crawled into the cot, now dehydrated to the max. How I fell asleep with all these thoughts of Patricia and this "Dennis" racing through my mind is a mystery to me. Another unknown slot of time passes before I wake up to a loud scraping noise.

My eyes first squeeze together in annoyance at the sudden disturbance. When I do open them, I see, well, at least the man's _body_ scraping the second cot against the ground while pushing it over to me. I bolt up out of the cot- man, it's seriously not good to get into habit of waking up like this- and observe who's here. This person _also_ seems unfamiliar to me. They are much less controlled and structured than the previous two people I've met, judging from their body language and careless act just now.

"Holy shit!" The, apparently child, talks with a heavy lisp. They tilt their head and stare at my eyes. "Are you blind?"

He seems delighted. 

"Well that's a nice 'n proper introduction," I say with a travesty of reprimand. 

The kid wears a swishy jacket and jogging pants. His voice is the highest I've heard so far and sounds very young. Not to mention his broad, childish grin and raised eyebrows. He's sitting cross-legged on the cot that he brought over to the one I slept in.

"Ya'know you move, like, _**a lot**_ in your sleep."

"Who are you?" I calm down a bit from the surprise. Time for me to pry for answers.

"My name's Hedwig." He says it very offhand so he can get back to his own curiosities. "Did you accidentally pour bleach on your eyes or somethin'?"

Hedwig. So it's safe to assume I'm talking to a young boy. But just to make sure...

"How old are you?" I slowly start to sit on the edge of my cot, twirling my ring absentmindedly. 

"Nine." His brow furrows, but he keeps his goofy grin. He lifts a hand into the air. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Hedwig- _Look,_ I'm not blind-"

"Then how many fingers am I holding up?"

I glare at him and sigh when I realize he's not going to let up.

"Five."

He puts a finger down.

"Nuh-uh it's only four-You **ARE** blind!"

"Hedwig, please. Serious stuff is happening and I **need** your help..." I'm pleading with him while also trying not to sound too scary as to turn him away.

"Ooo, I'm a good helper. What do you want?" His excitement lowers a notch from, like, one hundred but needs to be about an eighteen. 

If my prediction is right and the man _does_ have DID, I know I need to be careful with time and making sure he doesn't feel the need to bring up an alter.

"Do you happen to have any idea on why I'm here?" I say it with a slight lilt to my voice to keep Hedwig happy.

He giggles as if the whole thing is hilarious.

"You mean you don't know?" He knows damn well I don't know. Just hurry up and tell me something before anything happens. "So I know something you don't know." He starts getting cocky and raises his chin smugly.

"Well, what is it Hedwig?" I look at him calmly but spin my ring fervently. He continues looking at me with that oddly adorable, shit-eating grin. " _Please?_ "

"Someone's coming for you...And you're not gonna like it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I'm still trying to get used to it all, so criticism is always listened to! This came out a bit later than I wanted, and I hope to come out with at least two chapters a week once things settle for me a bit. 
> 
> But I'm so excited for Hedwig!! He's really a great character to work with and I love the idea of the OC and him being friends. I dunno, but I'm just really happy that he's a thing!


	3. Bleeding Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I wanna start off with warnings. This part does get a little graphic and self-harm is brought up.
> 
> I want to apologize for the wait on this, too. Twice I wrote half the chapter in one sitting and I freaking EXITED THE PAGE WITHOUT SAVING THE DRAFT. So you all have every right to be angry at me as I am with myself.
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for the kudos and comments!!
> 
> With love~

I think I'm starting to get the hang of telling time without a clock. Or I might just get tired really easily, resulting in seas of drool. From what I can tell, it's been three days. Meals come at seemingly the same time, at least on my scale of sleepiness. They are always brought here by the first man (Dennis, I know now), but he makes a point to say Miss Patricia made them. Speaking of which, I haven't seen her since our initial meeting, and I'm not sure why. It's probably because of me questioning her. Thinking back on it from her perspective, it seems a lot more unpleasant. I mean, what would _you_ do if your buff roommate freakin' kidnapped someone? I don't blame her at all for not visiting.

I wake up a little while before Dennis comes in for the first time of the day. He would then leave to go somewhere for around an hour or two and come back, giving me a sandwich wrapped in Saran wrap before leaving for a longer time period, between eight and nine hours I'd guess. When he gets back, he brings in another meal but not made by the lady. They've been in containers like what you would get at a food court. He or Hedwig would come and visit any time in between then and the time I go to sleep. Once even after. I had woken up to Dennis opening the door, and I wasn't exactly sure what to do so I acted as if I were still sleeping. He had just sat on the edge of the bed for who knows how long. Silent and still. Strangely, it wasn't an off-putting interaction. It was honestly almost... _comfortable_. I must've fallen asleep because I woke up to an empty room.

His visits have been gradually growing longer. In the beginning, it would be for just a few moments where he would hand me something to eat. But he started to look for excuses to stay just a while longer such as asking me to keep the bathroom clean, despite it being spotless or ask how I like the food and waiting for the only response I give; a head nod. The last time he was in here was drawn out to somewhere around an hour. Dennis doesn't actually _talk_ though. Really talk. It's just been light, easy topics for the most part. Often he doesn't speak at all. We just sit together in contented silence. 

I should be scared of him. Hell, I should be **terrified**. Just as when he first entered that truck. He's already been doing as I feared before and slowly taking away my layers of shirts. I have just one long-sleeved shirt before the camisole which I undoubtedly don't want to be left in. I've heard him mention this "someone" coming for me, exactly as Hedwig had warned. Jesus Christ...this has got to be Stockholm syndrome, and there even seems to be Lima syndrome on his side...but that doesn't seem right. Maybe there are no disorders or complexes involved. It feels a lot more like basic humanity. Sure, call me a bleeding heart, but I can't blame _him_ for what's going on.

Dennis has been gone for a while now and I'm pretty sure he's out on the long break. I decide now is as good a time as any to take a shower. Besides, it gets pretty dang boring here, so this will be a nice shake-up of things. I step into the bathroom, locking the doors, and look over to see shampoo and conditioner already in the shower. I push aside the bin of cleaning supplies from Dennis and look through the other caddy. I find a pack of clean razors and take one. I mean, why not? I've gotta waste all this time somehow. And shaving is definitely high on the list of time-wasters. I carefully strip and avoid looking at my body, focusing on just getting into the welcoming stream of water. As soon as the first drop touches my skin I feel better. It's surprisingly hot and feels incredible. I savor the blissful burning until my body becomes numb to it. I can actually see the appeal of the clear shower curtain now. So much more light shines into the small area. There's this one song stuck in my head, but I'd never sing aloud in a thousand years, so I settle with softly dancing to the rhythm in my head. I'm honestly having a _good time_ despite all the crazy shit going on. In hindsight, I haven't had to do any real work or homework. When I get out of all this, maybe I'll have an excuse to get out of midterms or even _finals_.

I finish up in the shower and quickly dry off. The air outside my little paradise is cold and I consider going back into the waterfall of Heaven. I throw all my clothes back on and rub the towel over my hair again. When I emerge from the little fabric cave, I'm in front of the mirror. It reminds me of -well, first my grody appearance- my plan to break it's glass. I reconsider whether it's necessary. He hasn't honestly been violent at all. Maybe I'm overreacting and don't need a _shank_ .

Who am I kidding? You've seen his arms bulging out of his shirt. He's obviously got the upper hand when it comes to physicality. Not to mention the whole _"he-drugged-me-and-brought-me-to-some-mysterious- **basement** "_ situation.

I grab at the mirror and pull it off the wall with little fight from its side. I exhale sharply through my mouth. It's _just in case._ I lift it above my head and crash it against the white-tiled floors. It shatters like I had hoped.

As I kneel down to pick up a shard, memories flood my mind. I'm suddenly that fragile thirteen year-old kid with broken glass pressed against my thighs, my stomach, my wrists.

I bolt up and press against the door, breathing short, quick breaths. I've worked so hard to get over _that_ , why is it coming back to haunt me now? I'm doing this to protect myself, isn't that what I'm supposed to do?

Next, I imagine what I would do with the piece once I had it. I see Dennis leaning against that wooden door, choking and gurgling on his own blood with a shard lodged in his throat. Miss Patricia with tear-stained cheeks, unconscious on the floor and covered in her blood that she's shared her whole life. I see Hedwig. His goofy grin completely wiped away. Fear and confusion replacing all signs of amusement. His voice shaky as he asks what's going on. I'm disgusted with myself. How did I ever think this was even a possibility? I would rather die a thousand times before seeing any of those images come true. I don't care _what_ brought me to it, nothing is worth that.

I push open the bathroom door and slam it shut with my eyes closed, willing myself not to cry. 

"Yo, dude, what was **that**?"

I open my eyes and see Hedwig standing with the door half opened.

"Hedwig!" I say slightly breathless. I'm glad to see a familiar, _living_ face. He has become a great comfort to me here. His visits are very different from Dennis'. Hedwig is just fun to be around. He's a nice diversion from everything that's going on. Sure, he can be a bit malevolent at times, but that's totally understandable under his circumstances. 

"What are you doing back? I didn't think you'd be here for hours."

"Nah, Mr. Dennis' shift ended a li'l while ago." A big smile grows on his face. "Your hair is **super** curly right now."He starts walking over with his hand outstretched to touch it. "Woah, man." He says more to himself than me. I smile at his fascination and wonder how much experience he's had with touching hair considering his own shaved head. "Kinda gross though. Why's it wet?"

There goes the sweetness. But I'm still glad to have someone here to help me get back in my good mood and away from what happened moments ago. 

"It's called a shower. Maybe if you knew, you wouldn't stink so bad all the time." I joke and poke him in the stomach.

"He-ey!" He stops patting my head and hops over to the one cot that he's basically claimed for himself. He starts pulling off his shoes and throwing them at the opposite sides of the room. He throws his legs into the air, his butt hovering above his head. 

"I got new socks!" I see his ecstatic face peep out from the side of his thigh as he struggles to show off his prized possessions. They're green with different colored dinosaurs scattered around up to his mid-calf. 

"Wow, those are nice," I congratulate him on his find. Not until then does he return to an _almost_ normal sitting position. 

"Yeah, I know. Mr. Dennis got them on his way back from visiting Dr. Fletcher." Hedwig stares at his feet as he says this. 

"Dr. Fletcher?" That's the first time I've heard the name mentioned.

"Yeah, she's our therapist or something. Even though _**I'm**_ not allowed to see her right now." He stares off for a moment looking confused. "Didn't I come in here for a reason? -Oh yeah! What was that crash?"

"Oh, I just broke the mirror in the bathroom on accident, I'll-"

"Should I get Mr. Dennis to come clean it? He, like, **really likes** cleaning."

"No, no! I've got it, I can clean it up. How about we just play a game instead?" I don't think I'm ready to go back in there yet. Once I recover a little I'll be okay enough to do it. 

"Ah sweet! Can we build a fort?" And he's now standing up on the cot.

"Uh, heck yeah! But get down first! You're not much help if you're dead."

So we flipped our cots on their sides and rearranged the blankets and pillows until we were content. We got sidetracked, we threw pillows, we laughed. And it was great. I hadn't really thought of myself as a kid-person, but you learn something new everyday. Or you learn something new when confined to a room with limited people to talk to. Right, besides the point. We had genuine fun. I try to think back to the last time I had a friend like this and nothing really comes up. I have a feeling that might be true for Hedwig as well. 

I sit in our tent-like structure with my back against the wall and Hedwig sits cross-legged in front of me. He leans over and pats my hair again.

"Hey, it's dry now! And really poofy."

"Thanks?" I laugh at his naivety.

As he continues squishing my hair against my face, he casually asks me a question.

"Wanna get married?"

I laugh again.

"Hedwig, I think I'm a little too old for you." He shrugs his shoulders and continues touching my hair.

An idea pops in his head and his face lights up. He puts his hands underneath him and he rocks happily.

"I know someone who's old enough to marry you."

"Oh yeah? Who is this fine specimen?" I humor him sleepily.

"Mr. Dennis." He bites his lip deviously as he sees me go rigid and start to panic.

"Hedwig, I swear to God almighty if you do what I think you're doing..." He looks to the side, into the distance.

"Hedwig, no-no!" I try to fix my hair and adjust myself as I see his posture start to change.

Well, Dennis, welcome to Fort Sox.

...

"What is this?" He doesn't sound particularly angry. Achievement. He folds his arms across his chest. 

"Me and Hedwig- Hedwig and I...we built a fort. Like with blankets." Jesus, did Earth's force of gravity just increase? 'Cause I am getting no oxygen to my lungs whatsoever.

He looks at me suspiciously. That might just be his normal scowl, though. He looks around his surroundings and at our extreme proximity.

"We named it Fort Sox."

This time I definitely see his scowl intensify. Yep, that's about the response I usually would expect from that kind of joke.

"He mentioned broken glass." Call me crazy, but I think his voice gets huskier each time we talk. Yeah, anyway...

"Right- er, that's in the bathroom..." We have a predicament. He's blocking the exit so I can't exactly lead him there. Oh, _phew_ , he got the idea. Wow such great problem solving. Most important issue of the day solved. Much proud.

It's strange seeing Dennis like this. He's still wearing Hedwig's clothes, crawling on his knees out of this silly little tent. I can't help but smile as I follow him out. Once he was able to stand, he offered his hand out to me. It caught me off guard for a minute. It was appreciated, don't get me wrong, I just wasn't expecting the gentlemanly gesture. Even more surprising, I took his hand and _let_ him help me up. As soon as I was also standing, we awkwardly avoided each other's gaze. He ran his hand over his scalp.

"I don't mind waiting at all if you want to go get changed first." I offer when seeing his discomfort. And would you look at that, I made eye contact with him. 

He looks down at himself and nods towards me. His face seemed to have softened just a minuscule amount. He walks out the door and comes back only a few moments later. He seems to be back to his normal self.

"You're going to...fix the beds, right?" He eyes the fort nervously.

"Oh! Yeah, of course." I forgot about his OCD for a minute.

He nods again and heads towards the bathroom. My cheeks burn with the memory of my episode. I want to turn around and leave it there, but the idea of making Dennis clean up the mess alone makes me feel even more pathetic.

Then a thought crosses my mind. I kneel down in front of the pieces and gently push Dennis out of the way. I take them in, twisting and turning each one to match the original appearance of the mirror; like a puzzle. Once I finish, there are no remaining holes. No missing or taken pieces.

"I didn't..." I'm not sure how to finish my sentence. I search his face for any emotion so I can know he understands, but he looks down at the ground. He grabs a bag from his pocket and starts throwing the shards in it. I help him and pick up tiny pieces hiding in the grout. With my incredible luck, I end up somehow cutting my palm. I don't want to gross out Dennis or make him concerned, so I just hide the wound within my sleeve.

We both try to ignore our closeness, but occasionally our arms or fingers would meet. The problem is that both of our instant reactions are to recoil. In fear of what, I don't know. 

The job is finished as I sweep any camouflaged bits into the dustpan and throw them out. Dennis patiently waits for me in the doorway, and I hand him the broom. 

"Is there anything you need? I'll be out tomorrow so..." he asks as he's about to leave my room. _Anything_ you say?

"Actually, yes." I wonder if it's a mistake to ask. "Is it possible to get my backpack from the truck we first came here in?" He looks at me a moment. Even when looking straight at me, I'm having trouble reading him. I tense up, thinking I crossed some boundary too soon. "I mean, as long as it's an option-" 

"That's no problem," he says and waves his hand to dismiss the rest of my nervous explanation.

Dennis' way of saying goodbye is to look into my eyes for a few seconds. I'm not sure what else to say, so I simply meet his gaze. Before now, I hadn't noticed how blue his eyes actually are. He drops his stare and exits the room. 

I let out a breath and suddenly feel cold. I finally notice that I've been twirling my ring again and stop. The room feels a lot bigger now. As much as I'm not willing to say it, I think I might miss him.

I turn, hoping to plop down onto the cot and ignore my thoughts but quickly realize it's still in fort form. 

I groan and hit my head against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a problem. I sat here for five solid minutes laughing at "Fort Sox." It being 3 am might have something to do with it.  
> Eh, whatever.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!


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